


Seas Catch Fire

by problematic_pleasures



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Barebacking, Canon Divergence, Exhibitionism, Extremely Dubious Consent, Guilt, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Rimming, forced to fuck, spit for lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 17:10:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13956207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematic_pleasures/pseuds/problematic_pleasures
Summary: Penny is back, and she wants a different kind of revenge.





	Seas Catch Fire

**Author's Note:**

> i got inspired by a kinkmeme prompt so i'm flitting back over to the jonescest zone to post this! 
> 
> the prompt was, ["Penny returns and forces FP to fuck Jughead. She doesn't want it to feel good for Jug so FP can only use his spit for lube and he really enjoys himself but feels so guilty because Jug is hurt and he just took his kids virginity. Lots of angst and guilt on FP parts. And lots of hurt Jug being conflicted because he's both scared of his dad yet wanting his comfort."](https://riverdale-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1356.html?thread=535372#cmt535372)
> 
> consider this a canon divergence from s2e12, when penny returns, i guess. i don't care enough about canon to go back and rewatch and try to fit it into the actual show, so just have fun with it!
> 
> it really spoke to me, so have some dirty-bad-wrong fic!

The fear Jughead feels in his chest when he sees Penny Peabody, standing proud inside the Whyte Wyrm, is nothing compared to the terror that lances through his heart when Penny opens her mouth.

_“I want you two to fuck.”_

Her lipstick smile is shiny and sharp. Her teeth glint in the low light of the bar, and the rest of the Serpents behind her are a mixture of cowed and delighted. Tall Boy stands to her side looking pleased as punch, and it does nothing to help the rolling of Jughead’s stomach.

“You heard me,” Penny says when no one moves. “I want what I’m due.”

“You’re insane,” Jughead says shakily.

Penny just laughs. “That’s rich coming from you.” Her arms are crossed tight over her chest and she smirks at him. “Chop chop, we don’t have all day. You idiots thought it’d be fine to let a _kid_ have the reigns and now I have to clean up this mess.” She snaps her fingers and a few scattered Serpents jump into action, but Jughead doesn’t pay them much attention. “Come on, you two.” She points to FP first, then Jughead.

“You’re sick.” FP snarls as he finally stands from his chair. Jughead watches his dad seethe for a moment, before something seems to break inside him.

“Dad, you’re not—you’re not actually _considering_ this.”

“What if I sweeten the deal?” Penny asks. “I’ve got a couple minions on clean up duty. Do this,” she points between them again, “and I’m out of here. We’ll consider any and all debt repaid.”

“That’s—?” Jughead sputters and chokes on his next breath. “You’re literally insane.”

Penny strides up to him suddenly and her sharp nail pokes against his adams apple. “You want to talk insane, you little shit?” She hisses; the gleam in her eyes speaks volumes and Jughead leans back but she follows. Her blood red nail digs into his skin, almost enough to sting. “You do this, and I’m _gone_ , you get that? Isn’t that what you want? Weren’t you just _so_ eager to do anything to help your dear old daddy?”

Jughead swallows and looks away, looks to his dad. FP’s face says everything: he’s already accepted their fate. “Fine.”

“Great.” Penny steps back and returns to her spot beside Tall Boy. She perches herself on the table and holds out her hand; the bartender on duty swiftly throws together a drink, and a younger Serpent brings it to her. “A couple ground rules.”

FP and Jughead freeze and stare at her expectantly.

“You do it, right here.” She spins her finger around as a gesture to all the other Serpents. “Maybe against that pool table? Always a classic.”

Beside him, his dad is starting to seethe again, but Jughead feels suffocated by fear.

“No lube, either. Just your spit, got it, daddy?” Penny stares FP down with an absolutely delighted expression. Jughead isn’t sure what’s worse, that they’re actually going to do this or the fact that Penny has evidently thought about this before. “I don’t care if it hurts both of you. All I care about is you both come, whether you like it or not.” She sits back and sips her drink, looking all the world like the cat that got the cream _and_ the canary. “Get on with it,” she says, tilting her drink toward them.

“That’s—I can’t,” FP stumbles around the words even as he reaches for Jughead. He grabs his shoulder and it’s almost a comforting touch, but Jughead still flinches away. FP looks scandalized, almost as terrified as Jughead feels. “Penny, that’s just…”

Penny shakes her head and her blonde hair flits back and forth with the force of her uncaring laughter. “Don’t you get it, FP? I don’t care.” She curls her lips around the straw and takes another long sip. “Would a shot help, maybe? I’m fine with that.”

Jughead nods but FP scowls. “Not a chance.”

“Dad—?”

“I’m not— _you’re_ not.” He stops and stares at Jughead with wide eyes.

“Just let me,” Jughead insists. “It’ll help,” he says, even though he really has no idea. He pulls away from his dad’s touch and gestures to the bartender. “My usual, I guess.”

“You’ve got a usual?” FP asks in disbelief.

“It’s not like I drink it often.” Jughead doesn’t meet his dad eyes. “Just something to take the edge off.” Jughead startles and stumbles when his dad rushes up to him and grips his elbow almost painfully tight.

“We’re gonna talk about that. Don’t think I’m gonna forget.”

Paralyzed, Jughead only nods. The drink is ready in seconds, and Tall Boy brings it over to him with a gleeful smirk. Penny clears her throat, her drink already empty. “C’mon, throw it back like the big man you are, Jughead. No sense in prolonging the inevitable, right?”

“Right.” Jughead mutters. He looks into the gin and tonic, extra lime, and knocks it back in one go. It’s a blessedly small drink that’s more gin than tonic or lime. It burns his nostrils, his mouth, his throat, but he knows it’ll help now. He’s sure of it. Tall Boy takes the glass back, still delighted, and brings it back to the bar.

“Alright, enough pussyfooting.” Penny leans forward with interest. “The Wyrm is your oyster, boys. Give us a nice little show.”

Jughead swallows the lingering bitter taste of alcohol and nods, more to himself than anything. “C’mon, dad.” The word feels equal parts awful and right on his tongue; judging from the look FP gives him he’s similarly conflicted. “Just, make it quick.” Jughead strips off his Serpent jacket and lays it across a nearby chair. His belt is next and he sets it with his jacket. He even takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair.

“Come on,” Jughead says again.

FP stalks up to him on stiff legs and follows suit. He leaves his jacket and belt on a chair, undoes his jeans and they sag low on his hips. “You sure?” He asks softly, even though the bar is dead silent and nothing they say will be between just the two of them. “We can figure something else out.”

Jughead walks until he hits the pool table and curls his hands around the scuffed wooden edges. “I want her gone,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear. Penny only laughs. “If this will make that happen, then f-fine.” His voice waivers on the last word, because everything is very much _not_ fine. But he steels himself anyway, stands up straighter.

“If I go quick, it’ll hurt more.”

Jughead turns and leans against the pool table. “Does it fucking matter?”

“Yeah, daddy dearest, does it fucking matter?” Penny has another drink her hand and her grin has only grown.

“It does to me,” FP says. He looks at Jughead when he says it and his tone leaves no room for argument. “Turn around, son.”

Jughead doesn’t argue. He turns back around and grips the edges of the pool table. He startles when his dad’s hands land on him and his body goes impossibly tense even as his dad tries to soothe him. Big, broad hands trail over his back and rib cage until they settle on his waist. They slide around to the front of his jeans and make quick work of the button and zipper.

Jughead grits his teeth as his dad pulls his jeans down.

“Hold on, hold on.” Penny sits up again, a new drink in hand. This one is pink and fruity-looking, and it’s staining her lips. “Move around to the other side, I wanna see this from the best angle possible.”

Jughead rolls his eyes but they do as told. FP steps back to give him room to move, and they shuffle around to the longer side of the pool table. It’s better and worse, Jughead thinks. Better, because his body is more obscured this way, less on display. But his face is there for everyone to see, and even his longer hair can’t hide it. Jughead doesn’t fuss, though; he adjusts his grip and leans against the table and flinches as his dad starts to yank at his jeans once more.

The denim pools around his ankles and he closes his eyes. He can’t pretend to be anywhere else, not when his dad’s hands are heavy on him.

“Jughead?”

Jughead nods and his throat works around words he can’t get out.

“I’m gonna—gonna get you ready now, okay?”

“Just do it,” Jughead hisses. He can feel his dad’s frown against the back of his neck, framed by the scrape of stubble. “Just get it over with. Please, dad.”

FP nods, and suddenly the weight and heat of him is gone. There’s a dull thud, and as FP’s hands land on Jughead’s ass, Penny lets out a whoop of joy.

“Oh, good idea, daddy,” she taunts. She’s clearly drunk, but Jughead wonders if it’s more for show. She seems like the kind of person who can handle her liquor; more likely, she’s just drunk off the high of watching them. Jughead grits his teeth and closes his eyes again. “C’mon, get in there.”

Jughead clenches tight when his dad spreads his cheeks.

“Jug,” FP breathes and the air fans across Jughead’s exposed hole. “Son, you gotta loosen up for me. I promise, I’ll make it good for you.”

“I don’t need it to be good! I need it to be over!” Jughead snaps back over his shoulder.

“Jug.” FP’s tone turns gently chiding. “Let me do this, please.” His voice cracks on the last word, and Jughead winces. It takes him a minute, and he can practically feel the impatience radiating off of Penny. He takes a few deep breathes and forces himself to relax enough that FP hums in strained satisfaction. “Thanks, kid.”

Jughead winces again but manages to keep his body as lax as possible. He stiffens as his dad’s breathing gets closer. He goes up onto his toes in shock as his dad’s tongue drags across his asshole. “Fuck,” he hisses, not in pleasure but not entirely in revulsion. The stubble around his dad’s mouth scrapes at his sensitive cheeks and it’s almost nice, almost feels good, but then he remembers where they are and what’s happening and Jughead’s blood runs cold.

“Just relax for me,” FP urges, slightly out of breath. His words are slick and wet and Jughead feels uncomfortably similar. “The quicker you relax the sooner this’ll be over, Jug, you know that.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier,” he snaps back.

FP sighs but continues. He laves his tongue over Jughead’s hole in broad stripes until the skin is dripping with spit; he spears his tongue into a point and pushes inside slowly, opening Jughead up.

Jughead yelps and tightens again, but now it only heightens the sensation. He’s being breached for the first time, by his own fucking dad, while everyone watches. He burns hot and cold because the feelings aren’t awful but everything else is. Jughead opens his eyes as an especially heavy thrill of pleasure rolls through him, and catches Tall Boy watching. He shudders and figures if it had to be anyone eating him out, if it had to be anyone getting ready to fuck him, his own dad isn’t the worst option.

Jughead drops his head to stare at the stained green of the pool table and tries to block everything out: the sounds, sensations, all of it. The sloppy smack of his dad eating him out, the hoots and hollers of the less-than-polite Serpents. Jughead bites his lip hard enough to bleed, but can’t help a cry when his dad curls his lips around his asshole and sucks.

“Ah! Fuck!” Jughead clenches his eyes shut tight as his mouth drops open.

Jughead shakes his head as if he can shake off the dirty feeling of pleasure. It doesn’t help to feel his dad smirking against him, like he’s enjoying this, like he’s got nothing he’d rather be doing than eating his son’s ass. “Dad,” Jughead croaks eventually, when his nerve endings start t burn and he can’t honestly tell if he wants more or wants to break down and cry. “Dad, stop.”

FP stops in an instant. He sits back, then stands “Jughead?”

Jughead swallows a whimper. “Just fuck me,” he pleads. He feels cold now without his dad so close, and his stomach churns. “Just get it over with, _please_.”

“Yeah, yeah,” FP murmurs back. “Okay, son, I got you.” Another lewd, wet noise and something else presses at Jughead’s hole. “Start you off with fingers, okay? Just a little bit, I can’t—I can’t do it otherwise, Jug.”

Jughead only nods even as tears finally spring to his eyes. He shakily breathes in and out, in and out, in and out until one of his father’s thick fingers pushes into him. It’s not nearly wet enough, and doesn’t feel at all like his tongue. His tongue was soft and slick and gentle; this, despite FP’s best efforts, is rough and it stings and Jughead lets out a sob. The tears spill over and down his cheeks, and he licks reflexively at the salt that covers his lips.

“I’m sorry, Jug.” FP whispers as he starts to thrust. He’s as gentle as he can be but it doesn’t really make a difference. His finger is thick and spit doesn’t last as lube. Jughead winces as it starts to dry, and FP responds by withdrawing his finger and sucking on it. “I’m sorry,” he says again as he pushes in once more.

“Stop it,” Jughead hisses. “Stop fucking apologizing.” He doesn’t say it’s his fault they’re in this mess; Jughead doesn’t bring up the accidental drug run, or the blackmail, or the way he tortured Penny himself. He knows full well whose fault it really is, knows his dad knows too. “Hurry up and fuck me so she can leave.”

This time, FP thrusts into him with two fingers, still spit-slick. He moves faster now, as though he’s actually heeding Jughead’s demands, and every time he thrusts a little harder he lets out a grunt from the force. The motions rock Jughead into the table, and it’s then that he realizes he’s half hard, and his cock is smearing feeble amounts of precome over the wooden edge. A burst of pleasure bleeds through him at the thought of being filled properly. As quick as it came, it’s gone, replaced with the reminder of Penny as her laugh interrupts them.

“God, you two are just a mess.”

Jughead opens one eye to see that several Serpents have cleared out. Tall Boy still stands beside Penny, and the bartender is still there. The crowd has thinned considerably, though, and Jughead’s racing heart calms because of it.

“Disgusting,” Penny observes with a cruel smile. Jughead scowls at her even with tear tracks drying on his skin. “I wish I had thought to film this. But, alas, a promise is a promise.” She puts on an exaggeratedly bored expression. “On with the show.”

Jughead finally looks over his shoulder to his dad and isn’t surprised to see him glaring at her as well. “Dad,” Jughead whispers. FP’s eyes snap to him in an instant. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” FP replies firmly.

Jughead rolls his eyes and aims for amused, teasing, but knows his shaking body throws the façade off kilter. “It’s okay.” He says again. His gaze drops to his dad’s lips and for a split, insane second, he wants to kiss him. As If that will make everything really okay. As If that would fix anything. FP’s eyes widen a fraction, and his eyes fall to Jughead’s mouth as well. “It’s okay,” Jughead says once more.

FP shakes his head minutely, and Jughead turns back around without another word. Something in his chest aches—his heart, he realizes belatedly. His hammering heart stings, and his eyes burn as he starts to cry again. His dad shushes him, gentle and sweet, as he starts to force his way inside. Jughead’s not stretched enough, not slick enough, and his dad is too thick and too long. Jughead grits his teeth again but it doesn’t stop the whimpers of pain from escaping.

“Jughead, fuck.” FP lays his forehead against Jughead’s neck, and the sweat-slick skin slides unevenly together. He’s breathless and his voice is heavy with arousal, and Jughead feels like he might vomit. Maybe the drink before was a bad idea: he’s still painfully sober, still unable to block out what’s happening. The drink is all he’s had in a couple hours and his empty stomach is revolting against him.

“Dad.” Jughead whines.

“Shh, shh,” FP soothes. “I got you.” His arms wind around Jughead and hold him close to FP’s chest. It’s almost unbearably warm like this, and it lets FP thrust in deeper which only hurts more. But it’s better. Jughead can smell his dad’s familiar cologne, and his beard is starting to feel more like a comfort than a sting. He’ll have beard burn, he thinks inanely, and the thought almost makes him laugh. “That’s it.” FP’s voice stays low but he clearly approves. “You’re opening up for me, Jug, that’s good.” His thrusts slow to an almost leisurely pace.

“Dad.”

“Yeah, Jug, that’s it.”

Jughead writhes in his grasp as FP finally starts to moan. He’s clearly losing himself in the sensations of Jughead’s body, and his hands clench possessively on Jughead’s skin. His dirty, bitten-short nails bite as he grips, and Jughead focuses on the burst of pain. “Dad,” he tries again, but it comes out breathy and pitched.

“Yes, Jughead, that’s my boy.” FP shakes his head and smears sweat across Jughead’s back. It mixes with his own, and something about the feeling startles a realization out of Jughead. “S’feeling better, isn’t it?” FP asks.

Jughead can only nod. His throat locks up as he wonders whether he’s just loosened up or if… if he’s bleeding. Idly, he thinks he must be. There’s no way he isn’t, and the thought has Jughead suddenly feeling week. He falls forward, out of his dad’s grasp, and onto the table. He hides his face in his arms and it only barely muffles his sobs. Above him, FP’s thrusts pick up and his reassurances grow louder.

“It’s gonna be—nng, _fuck_ —okay, son.” The wet sound of his skin slapping against Jughead’s is overwhelmingly harsh compared to everything else, Jughead thinks. He doesn’t really hurt anymore, aside from a faint almost addictive ache. His head is still pounding and he still feels like he might be sick, but his body finally relaxes as he simply lets go. He jumps when his dad wraps a hand around his cock and starts to stroke him, and shivers as he feels his orgasm hurtle towards him.

“Dad, I’m gonna—!”

“That’s it, Jug, baby, come on.” FP strokes him faster, grips him just right to send Jughead over the edge of orgasm and milks him dry. “Yeah, yeah.” FP’s thrusts start to falter and Jughead goes tense all over again as his dad starts to come inside him. He’s painfully aware of his dad’s prick pulsing with release, filling him up and spilling out when it’s too much. Eventually, he slows to a stop, and they’re both left panting.

Jughead’s drawn out of his thoughts, blank and idle as they are, by clapping. He goes up on his shaking elbows and looks over to Penny, who’s sitting and clapping and pleased as fucking punch.

“Bravo,” she teases. “I think I even helped you two discover something new, huh?” Her eyes are pinpointed on FP, devilish smirk in place. “Well, unlike some people,” her gaze shifts to Jughead now. “I don’t go back on my word.” She finally slides off the table and brushes imaginary dust from her skintight pants. “I’ll leave. I’ll even take Tall Boy with me.” The look she flashes at him is disgustingly obvious, and Jughead forces back a gag.

Penny looks Jughead and FP over once more, her smug expression never fading. “See you, boys. It’s been fun.” She curls her fingers at them in a mocking wave, then strides out of the Whyte Wyrm like it’s another ordinary day. Tall Boy sneers and follows her out after flipping them off.

Jughead and FP don’t move after they’re gone, though FP does shout. “Can we get some fuckin’ privacy?” The rest of the Serpents scatter. Eventually, they’re alone, just the two of them.

“Jug, I’m gonna pull out now. S’gonna hurt.”

Jughead nods and braces himself. “I know.”

FP doesn’t try and assure him or soothe him. He pulls out slowly and carefully, and whistles lowly. “Fuck, Jughead.”

“That’s what you did,” Jughead taunts, because clinging to his sarcastic nature might be the only thing keeping him sane right now. He shrugs when his father glares at him. “It’s all I got,” he admits. He waits until FP takes a step back then he scrambles for his boxers and jeans. Ignoring the pain, he yanks them up and tucks himself away. His front is sticky with drying come and his ass is uncomfortably wet and he hisses as he tries to walk.

“Easy, Jughead, easy.” FP’s voice, where before it was ragged with desire and lust, sounds tinny with regret. He sounds like he might break, snap like a twig underfoot at the slightest provocation. “You gotta take it easy.”

Jughead nods but doesn’t look at his dad. “I’ll drive us home.”

FP shakes his head. “It isn’t that far. I’m driving.”

Jughead wants to argue; the last thing they need is to get pulled over right now, especially when his dad doesn’t have a license. But his body aches and his head feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton. He staggers over to the chair and carefully slips into his jacket, tugs his hat over his ears. He doesn’t bother with his belt and holds it in a white-knuckled grip as he waits for his dad to finish putting himself together. He fishes his keys from his jeans pocket when FP, dressed but off kilter, holds out a waiting hand.

The drive home is dead silent. Not even the radio is on. It’s late enough that the roads are nearly empty and Jughead closes his eyes. He rests his head against the window despite the bumpy roads and while he doesn’t sleep, he’s able to calm himself down. It takes no time at all to pull up to the trailer home, and the park is eerily devoid of people or noise as they clamber out of the car.

Jughead stumbles as they walk up to the trailer and FP steadies him with a hand on his elbow. Without thinking, Jughead tears out of his grasp and takes a few steps back from his dad. FP stares at him for a long, quiet moment, then nods. He turns back to the trailer and gets the door open, and walks inside without looking back at Jughead.

Jughead waits a minute before following him.

“Look.” FP says from the kitchen. He’s got a bottle of whiskey out and a half full glass raised to his lips. “I’m sorry.”

“I told you to stop apologizing.”

FP shakes his head and downs the whiskey, then pours himself another. “I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have let that happen. I definitely shouldn’t have…”

“Have gotten into it?” Jughead spits, even though he thinks about how he came too, how he’s still thinking about kissing his dad just to see if the world settles on its axis even a little bit.

FP scowls into his glass but nods. “Yeah, that. Shouldn’t have happened. None of it.”

“Penny’s gone. That’s what matters.”

The glass slams onto the counter so hard Jughead is surprised it didn’t break. “No, it’s _not_ fuckin’ alright!” FP hollers. He sets the whiskey aside with the same force and only the square shape of the bottle keeps it from rolling off the counter. “None of this is alright, Jughead, don’t try and bullshit me! Penny being gone doesn’t matter more than _you_!”

Jughead bites his tongue on a snappy remark entwined with a lie.

“This is—Jughead, I’m so fuckin’ sorry, alright? I let you down. I fucked this up worse… worse than I thought possible.” The rage flees from his dad like a snuffed-out flame. He stumbles over to the kitchen table and falls into a rickety chair. FP hides his face in his hands and sighs. “You should maybe go back to stayin’ with Fred, if you can.”

“They can’t afford it.” Jughead says, even though it’s only half true.

“I’ll send money with ya.” FP shakes his head again, this time at nothing in particular. “You shouldn’t have to be here.”

“I don’t _have_ to do anything,” Jughead agrees in a sideways manner. “I didn’t have to agree to what happened. We could’ve made a different deal. I chose this, too.” Jughead swallows, then says, “I came too, if you recall.”

“You’re a kid, you’ll come when someone looks at you the right way.” FP scoffs.

Jughead moves before he can think better of it. He stomps up to his father and pries his hands away from his face. “I made just as much of a choice as you did. I could’ve said stop, and you would’ve stopped.”

It takes a second, but FP nods.

“We’re both to blame. For all of it. And it doesn’t fucking matter because it’s over and done with.”

FP looks like he wants to disagree, but he doesn’t say anything.

Jughead lets go of his dad’s hands and they fall into FP’s lap. “I’m going to bed,” Jughead decides. “I’m not going to school tomorrow.”

FP just nods again, and won’t look at Jughead.

Jughead hesitates a little longer before turning and walking back to his bedroom. It used to be his dad’s room, but Jughead claimed it while his dad was in prison, and FP’s never asked to have it back. Either his dad crashes on the couch or the recliner or finds somewhere else to sleep if he wants a real bed.

As he strips down, Jughead digs around for a towel to wipe himself clean with. It’s not enough to really do the trick, but he’s too exhausted for a shower right now. He’ll save it for tomorrow, even though he’ll wake up stickier than he already is. He crawls into bed with a fresh shirt and fresh pair of boxers on, wincing all the while. As he settles under the covers, he almost shouts for his dad; he almost asks him to come here, sleep with him— _just_ sleep. His head hits the pillow as he tinkers with the idea, with the _why_ behind the idea, too.

Jughead falls asleep before he can even open his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> (psst does anyone want a hurt/comfort-fluffy-smutty follow up piece? bc i may be able to make that happen)


End file.
